


Something so magic about this

by mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)



Series: Heart & Pitch [3]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Porn with Feelings, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8288107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity
Summary: Did you look at the tags?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So. Here's the thing. I'm mind blocked on Amelia because as much as I like her I can't handle the Amelia/Mike. It's like ew - y'all. It's almost as though Mike hooks up with Ginny's mom.  
> Yeah, so maybe I imagined stuff too far.
> 
> Anyway - the only way to get that out of my head was do this.  
> So I did. Because I can.  
> And because I'm weird.

It’s quite possible, thinks Ginny Baker (first female major league baseball player, role-model for women athletes, pioneer of female entry into male-dominated sports, feminist icon) – that at some point, she’s turned into a raving nymphomaniac. 

Ginny skulks by the large, French doors, behind the bar, watching from the side, sipping her cranberry flavoured drink rather noisily – feeling a little guilty about hiding away– as though like she’s stolen from the punch bowl.

It’s not often that she gets personal space at parties like this. Everyone’s always surrounding her, wanting to be her best friend – wanting her opinion on the status of women or politics or baseball, or women in baseball or politics in baseball or women _and_ politics in baseball.  

(But – the way her horny, sex-intoxicated nympho mind’s been running off at tangent every free minute, Ginny’s pretty sure she’s setting feminism back another hundred years.

That and – banging the team captain.)

But, it’s not her fault really – it’s just that -

Every time she sees him –she’s assaulted with a whole mental photostream of vivid memories. Those large callused hands covering her breasts, the way he nips at her in all the right places. The way he has her on all systems go just by licking at the point in her neck. The way the velvety skin of his dick feels on her tongue, when she takes him into her mouth. His scruff scraping up against her -

A burning ache seizes her nether regions. _Like. Fuck. Seriously?_

She hurriedly gulps the last of drink and requests a stronger one.

She bites back a moan, thinking of his face between her legs, that smug look in his eyes before sends her into an orgasmic frenzy with that big fat mouth of his - that satisfied gloating smirk he never wipes off, right after.

There’s a moisture forming in the said nether regions. Ginny swallows a dry lump.

(She’s wonders what her hosts would say if they knew she was standing around, thinking about jumping the star catcher of the _Padres_ in the middle of their precious Venetian-style ball room.)

Like she’s right _here_. Wearing this preview, haute-couture, designer dress that shows off her boobs and her ass. It’s a bit risqué for her – sure, but she’s been feeling adventurous. She wanted to see if he’d squirm when he sees her in that. (She’s not entirely disappointed - he does do a double take when she walks in -  he recovers well enough, passes a snarky remark for the benefit of the other guys and the walks off, avoiding her for the rest of the night.

It’s for appearances sake, she gets that. Every now and then she catches him staring at her – so, she takes consolation in the fact that the dress did its job.)

But standing in the sidelines, watching Mike charm the pants off his mini-audience, Ginny can’t help feel that the scales aren’t really tipped in her favour.

 _She_ spent at least an hour trying to fit into the dress, with extra effort in hair and makeup.

 _He_ just showers and shows up all in a tux.

He’s been looking like his younger self lately. The doc said his knees couldn’t handle his couldn’t handle his bulk _and_ his game so he had to choose either, so he had taken to serious weight control over the last few months (Also, _she_ wouldn’t stop nagging him, for the sake of his general well-being _and_ because she _refused_ to pitching with Levan. Added bonus that she’s a gym freak and that’s the only scheduled time they can spend together in public without raising questions).

Mike doesn’t age like normal folks – she realized - the morning after he finally shaved off that hillbilly beard (- probably the quarter Asian genes he keeps harping about). She’d been calling him out on the facial hair – and he finally gave in.

He stepped out of the bathroom with a grumpy ‘there, are you happy?’ face, towel draped over his lower body, steam billowing around him like a proverbial halo, semblance of a four-pack starting to show over in his abs, wet hair plastered to his forehead and clean-shaven - and if it weren’t for the furrows on his forehead, or those laughter lines on his mouth - it would have been like he had magically stepped out of that poster she had hanging over her bedroom wall when she was a kid.

(It was – it was -!

She couldn’t be blamed for pouncing on him, is all she’s saying.

Ironically, it was only when he went total baby-face, that she realized how much she missed the sensation of that bristly facial hair against her sweet spots. They settled for a neatly maintained stubble – that for all intent and purposes makes him look edibly sexy.)

He’s back to being on of the ‘ _most attractive athletes’_ list, back on People mag’s ‘ _sexy men of whichever year’_ list, back on most women’s ‘ _Celebrities I’d cheat on my boo with’_ list – back on _all_ the lists for that matter. It’s like - the _half_ female population of San Diego (herself, included) are all hot-for-captain over him.

(So, she can’t really be blamed can she? ) If - in a crowd of, at least a hundred, super sophisticated people, Ginny Baker, whilst wearing her snooty sophisticated dress, is aroused by the sight of Mike Lawson – it is certainly justifiable – right?

Where are they anyway? The sheer volume of social events and galas she’s forced to go to, have all blurred into one. She’s not really getting much sleep. Her days are consumed with practice and training, and events, and sponsors and shooting commercials – her nights – well –

Ginny blushes, smiling to herself.

She doesn’t mind who consumes her nights.

Oh god. She needs have him right now.

She feels sweaty, a heat colouring her senses in a way that she can’t explain. She moistens her lips and starts to move around, smiling politely at those who recognize her, and excusing herself from those who want to talk to her, _desperately_ craving privacy.

Rapid sparks of heat are crawling over her, now, overriding cerebral function. She can smell him – _olfactory memory_ , they say - Sweat, manliness and – oh god, _everything_ that she needs, right now. She can hear him, too – _auditory memory_ , they say – his voice in her ear, the low thick drawl, the way he groans softly. She can feel him too - _tactile memory_ , they say – her skin tingles, thinking about his stubbly jaw rubbing over her thighs, his lips on her neck, his teeth at her tits.

She squeezes her thighs together – waddling, more than walking. It makes it easier – just barely -   _just_ enough to abate that maddening need.

They’re in someone’s mansion, Ginny gathers, as she wades about aimlessly. Somewhere, she’s certain there’s a bedroom or a bathroom she can sneak into. One of the waiters direct her to a private powder room. He looks at her sympathetically, like he thinks she needs to puke

Thank goodness, that’s all he thinks!

Ginny finds her face in a mirror, looking back at her horrified and disgusted. What is wrong with her? She looks like an animal in heat. Her eyes are dark with lust, her skin’s all clammy and her lips are swollen from all the nervous lip chewing. She snaps the lock shut, pulls her dress up - presses her lips together when her fingers reach through – pinching on her swollen clit, massaging it gently – moaning softly when she feels a temporary release.

In a few minutes, her foggy mind clears. She exhales in relief, leaning on the marble top counter and looks at her flushed face.

It’s embarrassing, she thinks – horny is one thing, but possessed with this sexual craving, all the time, every where. It’s a miracle it isn’t messing with her game, yet.   

She closes her eyes and thinks about Mike as she saw him earlier. Surrounded by a group of rather pretty girls, making them laugh and giggle with his charm and wit.

So cool, collected and blissfully unaware of what he’s doing to her.

She thinks of how his eyes seem to dart towards her, like he wants her to know that he belongs to her.

_Hers._

_Hmm._

Turnabout is fair play.

 

 

He’s talking to their Congresswoman and her date. (She totally forgot the lady’s name. She only remembers that she tried to get her endorsement. The politician lady is looks more interested in him that she is in her partner, but then again, Ginny can’t be trust her judgments in her current state of mind).

Voorhies, Zimmerman and Blip are standing there as well – so she thinks it not entire appropriate if she join his side. He casually smiles and nods at her appearing unfazed by her proximity – the way his throat lurches gives her hope.

“Congresswoman!” She pipes up. “How nice to see you again!”

It is a bit of a confidence boost that the minute she shows up, everyone’s concentration diverts to her. (Ginny, for once, is relieved to be the centre of attention. It makes what she’s about to do that much easier.) Mike glances at her – she notices - but totally looks away as quickly as frequently.

(She’s okay with his snubbery - because of their understanding and all. They can’t be seen making eyes at each other in public. It’s just stupid and asking for more trouble.)

Ginny smiles and nods politely like she’s been taught to when she realizes that she’s being spoken to – even if her brain decided to take a trip to la-la-land. More people migrate to surround her – she perceives it her chance and _carpe diem_ s the fuck out of it.

Mike stiffens when she reaches into his pocket. She gives him a casual glance nodding at him as though whatever the fuck Congressman whatsherface was saying made a lot of sense. Everyone looks rapt, wanting to hear her opinion, waiting to ask her questions on matters she doesn’t know from Adam.

His pensive hazel eyes look green in the lighting of the room. His eyebrows flinch only just. It’s like when she’s thinking of a repeating a screwball and he’s not entire sure whether it’s the best idea.  She draws her hand out as quickly as she slipped it in and folds her arms over her chest (congratulating herself inwardly for her masterful actions).

She sees him fidget from the corner of her eyes, feeling around in his pocket, cackling out her fake laugh at this really terrible ( _really,_ really _not_ funny) joke that the Congresswoman’s partner cracks.  He slinks away from the small horde of people gathering around her. Her eyes follow him to a pillar, where once out of view, he carefully reaches into his pocket – peeking at it.

Ginny bites back a loud expletive, sucking in her breath in horror when he yanks it out.

(Retrospectively, she wonders if it was so wise pulling that stunt. He probably wasn’t expecting her _that_ , and he probably wouldn’t have figured it out just by tactile assumptions, right?

 _I mean_ , she thinks, feeling ludicrous. _No self-respecting glass-ceiling-shattering major leaguer would just be walking around stuffing their underwear into the pockets of teammates at a frou-frou affair._

Right?)

He’s got her panties by a pincer grasp in full view from her angle, gawking at it with wide eyes. If people’s considerations hadn’t been directed towards her, they’d probably be get a healthy view of Mike Lawson, All Star, MVP, Ginny Baker’s favourite catcher and Captain of the _Padres,_ perversely ogling at a woman’s undergarment in his hands, lurking behind that pillar at this very _public_ black-tie event.

She exhales in relief when his large fists shut close as soon as it hits him. He looks around nervously to see if someone might have seen him, his eyes meet hers in the process.

 _Shock and awe, baby._ She thinks. 

He looks aghast at first. Ginny reckons she feels real satisfied – managing to pull that one on him. The corners of her mouth widen in a small surreptitious smile. She bats her eyes at him and then raises an eyebrow.

His expression suddenly shifts. There’s intrigue and a congratulatory amusement. He pushes his tongue at his front teeth, giving her a very sexy look. She feels the moisture between her thighs build as his eyes darken and a sly smile appears on his mouth. There’s a ‘ _challenge accepted’_ hint in them, which makes the warmth in her body intensify.

Ginny thinks she’s a prodigious actress. Managing to pull all that off while sustaining conversation with the whole lot of rich fancy folks with a couple of her teammates thrown in for the mix.

Now, it’s time for her award.

She narrows her eyes at him suggestively and then slips away, looking back every now and then to check that he’s following her.

She’s delighted to see that he is.

 

She’d covered all her bases before when she left that particular powder room. Eliot had taught how to screen for hidden closed circuit cameras (it was natural, that whoever owned this ginormous mansion, _was_ humongously rich, if they actually had a _fucking_ ball room. It was a pretty sensible assumption they’d have a fool proof surveillance system to with it) and she was satisfied with the privacy of that particular spot.

She flashes a coy smile at him in the mirror, as soon as he enters. He’s not really smiling, like she expected him to be, she expects him to gibe out something hilarious. There are no wisecracks, or teasing jokes. There’s no playing hard-to-get or reprimands, either. He silently narrows his eyes at her reflection in the mirror, closing the door behind him, locking it shut.

As he advances, a small smile appears on his face, that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes are as uncharacteristically silent as him, there’s a rapacious look in them.

It’s powerful -  Ginny doesn’t know why -  but, it excites her. 

Her whole being thrums in anticipation watching his reflection come up behind her. She moistens her lower lip and then bites down it, releasing it tantalizingly, aware of his eyes on her mouth. She can feel his jacket against her exposed back – he’s so close but he’s barely touching her.

She wonders if he’s angry at that stun she pulled. She _did_ put him in a compromising position in a very inappropriate location.

She sighs in a mix of relief and pleasure when he drops his head and presses his mouth into the crook of her neck, his arm sliding around her front. He doesn’t waste any time – just roughly rakes his stubbled jaw up to _her_ spot, the one behind her ear – she groans and leans forward, breathing heavily as he kisses under her ear – and that – _yeah_ \-  

She spins around, wraps her arm around his neck and opens her mouth for him. She lets out an urgent moan when he shoves his tongue in and she gets to suck on it. He’s already mapping out her dress, feeling over her rump, his finger sticking to the sides of her hips, feeling for something. She opens her eyes daringly, while they kiss – smiles against his lips when she graps what he’s confirming - she’s gone commando down there.

She uses his distracted actions as an opportunity to push him backwards. He takes her with him and they stumble towards the back of the door. In the small confined space of the powder room, it doesn’t take more than a few steps. The door rattles, but not too loudly – just enough for him the break the kiss.

Ginny feels a powerful surge of arousal when she presses up against that hard bump in his pants. He claps her face, a little rougher than he normally does, his fingers slipping into her hair. He allows her a loud gasp of air, and catches her lower lip between his teeth.

She pushes him back using a shoulder, moaning in a way she knows gets him all excited enough to distract him while she wedges her hand, frantically fumbling for his belt.

There’s _that_ grunt that she feels inside her mouth, when she’s got him in her hands – warm and throbbing.

For her.

Ginny disengages her mouth. She wrestles his hands, to her flatten her palm on his chest and pushes him back.

She’s hot and by all definitions horny and she wants to him to share the heated craving that has inebriated her. She sinks to her knees, delivering his erection into her hands. Her wrist closes on the shaft. “Fuck!” He hisses and smacks his head back against the door, eyes rolling shut – face transforming into that delicious expression.

She holds his gaze while she takes him into her mouth.

 

“What. The _fuck_. Baker?” He gasps out between loud strangled groans.

She looks up at him from her position. She likes watching him unravel – his hazel eyes are almost black with those pupils blown wide, his face is flushed to _that_ shade of pink, something she teases him mercilessly about. He’s gripping the edges of the door with his free hand, panting furiously. The collar of his tux is stained with sweat. Her lipstick's smudged all over his mouth. Her hair is still bunched up and hooked uncomfortably between the fingers of the other hand.

She releases him with a smack, a trail of his release clinging to her tongue.

That does something to him – she can tell.

She stifles back a satisfied smirk; he grabs her arm as she wobbles to stand up (because, he’s considerate, like that.) She watches him in the mirror while she saunters to the wash basin to clean up, he’s just following her with his eyes, still plastered to the back of the door, struggling to catch his breath.

She’s tilts her rear-end only slightly than she normally does when she bends. She washes her mouth under the observation of those hungry eyes, while he fiddles with the bow tie, opening up his collar, his breathing slowing with the action.

He blinks after a few seconds and looks down at himself. “ _God_ !– Fuck!” He growls. “What a mess!”

Ginny turns around and leans back on her hands against the counter, sticking her boobs out in that way she knows is too appealing for him.

Mike kills her with that look of incredulity. He crosses the distance and reaches for the tissues behind her. She watches as he cleans himself up and waits for him to toss the crumpled tissue into the waste. He doesn’t really meet her eyes, he’s only shaking his head disapprovingly, like he isn’t certain, whether to kiss her or chastise her.

She quirks an eyebrow at him, reaches for the zipper at the back of her dress.

He smiles at her, then - like he’s decided to play. 

Because – yeah – her ladybits might as well be soaked right now. The way he comes undone when she had him in her mouth always leaves her in a state of nothing but a heady mix of arousal and irrationality with a wanton desire for more.  

The slow creaky sound her zipper makes cuts through the sounds of their tandem aroused respiratory sounds. Something snaps in him, Ginny feels a small flicker of anxiety when his face loses whatever good-humour there is. He cups the back of her neck and drags to him for a rough, punishing kiss. It’s all she gets, before he forcefully pivots her, forcing her forward. Ginny whinges out, she grabs the edges of the wash basin and when he grapples with the edges of her dress and forces it up over her hips.

She’s more aroused than perturbed. His dick feels cool against her when he rubs the length of the shaft between her legs. She feels it harden as he presses it up against the curve of her ass. She licks her lips and moans out when his calloused palms rub over her rump and slips between her thighs. 

(A really cliché, aroused “Ah!” escapes her.)  “Baker!” He whispers, thickly - she can feel him, roughly fingering her, stroking her up. Ginny whines out her approval.

“You’re so…” He says –

( _Wet_ he wants to say – because she understands.)

\- and doesn’t say more.

She leans the back of her head on his shoulder, looking up at getting a closer look at his face. The aggressiveness makes his hazel eyes seem dark blue – light a night without stars. He opens his mouth over hers. It’s a sloppy, deep, tormenting, lazy kiss and he doesn’t stop teasing her mouth even when she’s writhing against his touch. She widens her legs and reaches a hand down, slipping it under her sex to grab him. He bites her upper lip when her fingers wind around his rigid dick.

She breaks the kiss with a loud gasp and a hiss when he probes it up against her, the thick, firm member sliding in and out of the ring made by her closed fist.

“Fuck - me.” She rasps out, in her sexiest, slinkiest voice.

His eyes darken more – apparently that was possible.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing to me, Baker?” He whispers. A low growl rumbles out that suggests he’s not playing games.

“I want you – inside me - now, Mike.” She whispers. “Please.” She adds, just for fun. (She likes to whine playfully while they’re at foreplay, it’s a massive turn-on for him – usually, he acquiesces quickly -) but he’s not looking mighty gracious at her pleas now.

She rolls her eyes shut and bites down on her lip, when he rubs her clit with the head of his erection, jutting her bottom up against his front. She swallows when his calloused palms swipe over her exposed back - he tugs the zip down, his large rough hand insinuating through her dress towards the front of her rib cage. Her dress opens up and slumps down her front like an obedient slave. His palms reach under the curve of her breasts, cupping them.

Ginny can’t look – a small part of her fears what she sees. Mike is intense and passionate – but he’s makes it a point to be gentle and always seeks her comfort first, when they’re intimate.

She wonders – just as she feels the pads of his thumb tease her nipples erect on one end while he slips two fingers insider her, stretching her out, an infuriating mix of pleasure and agony ripping through her – she _wonders,_ about the darker, brusque, selfish side of him.

She doesn’t hate the idea of it – in fact, she more than not-hates it. She _likes_ it.

That scares her.

Her eyes fly open when he bites into the back of her shoulder. Impulsively, she leans back against his chest, watching him play with her nipples – simply loving, _loving_ the way he tugs at them while his dick teases her from below. She meets his eyes in the mirror – not one iota of that frivolous, good-natured Mike is reflected back at her.

The man she sees has a ravenous, driven look – and he’s not playing gentle tonight. And. Ginny’s got the whimpering and moaning to show for it.

“Mike.” She whines.

Ginny lets out a surprised gasp when he pushes her forward, forcing her to snap her hand up to the basin, gripping it for support. He bends her over, by the waist. She leans over the wash basin and bites her lips in anticipation as he shoves his pants down to his thighs and steady’s her with one hand and his cock in the other.

He stalls for a second, his reflection looks hesitant – concerned.

“I thought we’d be doing this, later.” His voice is heavy and uncertain. He looks up at her in the mirror.

He means protection. (It turns her on – this non-verbal connection they have where they both just get what the other means.)

“You’re good.” She says, breathing heavily with eagerness.

He doesn’t wait. Her elbows flex down, fingers curl into the slippery marble of the basin. She arches her lower body up against him when he slides into her between the back of her thighs. It’s agreeably insistent, inconceivably thrilling and very much apart from their normal. She licks her lips and hums out long breathy groan that she knows he loves the hear when he penetrates her, for as long as she can.

Until she’s forced to cry out because – _fuuuuck!_ Does it feel so good to have him inside her without a latex barrier – like that – _naked_. There’s fire inside her chest – and it’s not just the raging sex neurotransmitters going berserk inside her body. They’re better fitted than they usually are – she wonders why they haven’t done this without the condom before.

That inconceivable pleasing heat emanating inside from his bare member, _him_ pulsating – _inside-_ filling her to the hilt-

They’re joined – _physically_ -united.   

“Shit! Fuck!” He exclaims as simultaneously as she moans. She raises her pounding head to look up at his reflection. She can see his heavy laboured respirations, his cheeks puffing out as he widens his legs and bucks his knees. There’s a peculiar expression of amazement on his face. She gathers riding bareback is something that works for him, too.  

“Fuck Fuck _fuck_!” He’s repeating. He seems caught between looking at her reflection in the mirror and down at her ass. He’s bracing himself – like he’s waiting for her to adjust. Every time his eyes meet hers, she sees there’s definite worry there – her Mike is back, momentarily – her sweet, caring Mike.

There’s something so perverse in wanting to feel how wild this can get. Whether his carefully held restraint does have a limit where he stops putting her first and just takes her – _takes._ Without a care, without consideration, if it hurts.

(The whole world thinks they own a piece of her. Everyone _takes_ from her without even a thought to the whether the sum of the parts they chip away and put back together, really do make a whole. What’s the harm in consenting up control to the one person who holds all her shrapnel parts together in his large callused catcher hands? What’s the harm of letting him be selfish?)

She purses her lips, in curiosity and pirouettes her hips a little, pushing back against his throbbing heat, grinding inside her. He grabs both sides of her waist letting out a startled grunt, when she does. When he looks at her in the mirror, at the encouraging look she wants him to see, channelling trust through her eyes, he grits his teeth and his face changes.

Like he’s coming apart. Like he’s not going to be able to keep her together anymore. Like he wants to just – do this for himself.

“Fuck. Me…” She rasps out, her voice gravelling, grating through her heavy exhaled breaths. “C’mon.” She adds.

He rolls his hips and thrusts forward, punishingly. She snaps forward, a thousand painful, but not unpleasantly so, sparks shooting inside her.

He rams his hip again, gently this time– sending her into another spiral of delicious pleasure. He draws back and hisses - and though she's not a big fan of the loss of contact - she loves that he eases back in again, her jaw opens in this wide satisfied grin when he starts to fuck her. He catches her eye, and snorts out a small amused laugh as she rocks into her.

It appeals to her, his lack of restraint. He jerks his pelvis upwards ramming up into her, roughly. He keeps squeezing her ass trying to get her hips to angle towards him. Her legs start to tremble, her knees start to buckle, he forces her hips to slant up towards him, and his arm snaking around her waist when her moans start sounding more desperate.

“Oh God! Yes!” She cries out. That perverse feeling crawling out of her skin. She sighs and drops her head, resting it on her outstretched elbow.

He lugs her up – she squawks out small wail, when the angle changes and her spine lines up against his chest. He splays his fingers over her breast, rubs and teases at her nipples as their movements get more jerky and less rhythmic. She drops her chin down – trying to reach for the cold edge of the basin to steady herself.

He catches he chin roughly, forces her to face the mirror.

“Look.” He commands.

Ginny only realizes that her eyes were squeezed shut when she opened them. In her blurry vision she sees herself, her hair a mess, her face red and her mouth wantonly, her cheeks billowing out erratically. Her breasts are bouncing up and down over his forearm. Her eyes shift to that terrifyingly dark look on his face. Her sweetheart, cheeky, cocky, goodnatured Mike, her - always trying to make her laugh especially when they’re making love - Mike is no longer there. The man fucking her has a menacingly territorial look on his face, like he owns her and she should know it.

It gratifies her a whole damn much because she knows owns that raging beast. 

He mouths against her ears, holding her eyes with his own. He doesn’t let her close them – her eyes – holding her jaw punitively, forcing them open, jarring her body with a rough thrust, every time she squeezes them shut.

It’s starting to get painful – her position stretched out like that with him ramming up so deep into her. He’s clenched his jaw, determinedly rolling his hips around occasionally because he knows that gets a louder reaction from her. He gentles down his movements only when she complies and watches him as he watches her in the mirror. He grazes his teeth against her earlobe, his tongue flicking against the earring before he kisses down her neck.

_Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod – she’s so close it’s -_

“Oh! Fuck! _Mike_!” She wheezes out her appeal for reprieve. “Please, babe – _Ah_!” She slumps forward as her lower body goes numb.

He forces her to straighten up. “Look at yourself, Baker.” He snarls in her ear.

Her eyebrows are crossed because – there’s a burning ache that’s making her throb around him – and it’s unbearable.

“You’re beautiful. Look how fucking beautiful you are.” He whispers. “Ginny.”

She doesn’t think so.

( _She_ thinks she looks like randy depraved person, that her hair looks like an Acme cartoon, frizzed out from all the sweating and the energy their burning – she thinks she looks butt-ugly and dim-witted and if _that’s_ her sex face, she’s wondering if Mike’s blind -

\- But. Hey. She’s not about to argue with him if he’s going to keep hitting that spot inside her.)

“And you’re going to _come._ ” He growls into her ear, his eyes fixed on her face. _“_ For me.”

Mike lets out a sound that might as well be a roar and smacks her ass. Ginny’s mouth drops open in a gasp as the action ignites a wave of carnal pleasure. She sucks her lower lip in and gives him the same shocked/pleased smile in the mirror -  just like the one she threw him, when he slapped her butt after the home run against the _Dodgers_. All those months ago.

His fierce expression breaks into a knowing grimace ( – she knows he remembers).

(It crosses her mind – if they had been destined to be in each other’s orbit from the beginning, gravitating around a black hole of inevitability spiralling inwards until they inevitably collapse to annihilate into energy.

Yep, go figure! _Philosophy’s_ on her mind while she’s about to ascend the mountain of screaming orgasms.)

How he manages to reach his fingers over her clit is completely a mystery. She sobs in response, her vision starting to get cloudier as that amazing feeling starts to override all her senses. She has no language left in her to tell him there’s no need. It’s like these multiple sparklers are set aflame all over that coalesce to form a raging white fire.

“Are you close? I’m gonna – Ginny I’m…” She barely hears his voice.

That fog of madness, rapture and tenderness has surrounded her. It’s excruciating but she wants to hold on to it as long as she can. He grabs her hips and thrusts against her violently – there’s a sharp but welcome burst of pleasure-pain inside her, it’s agonizing only for the brief while till she feels the pulsating pull rip at her.

She holds on – pushing it back – waiting for that irresistible texture of him shuddering inside her the vibrations ripping her apart.  

She pushes it back - waiting for his long, protracted groan of a “Fuck!” into her ear before that white hot release erupts inside her, his dick pulsating inside her furiously in the residual aftershocks.

Then she lets go. Her spine snaps up, she arches back against him and cries out, a million blinding sensations exploding all over her body effusing to her middle. Her vision goes white. Her knees buckle and she doesn’t have a fucking clue what happens after.

 

Ginny isn’t quite sure, how she ends up sitting her up to sit on the marble counter with the side of her hip smushed up against the edge of the wash basin, with her head tucked under Mike’s chin, the rabid pounding of her heart echoing in her ear.  She feels like she’s just run around the diamond in the most death-defying attempt for a home run.

When the numbness dissipates and her nervous system starts to function again, she’s somewhat made aware of Mike, wedged between her thighs holding her to his chest, petting her back with soothing strokes of his palm. She hears his heartbeat, it’s not that far behind hers in the race.

Her dress is bunched up around her stomach and she shivers from the feel of the cold marble against her naked skin.

“Hey?” His voice fills her ears. Maybe she’s started moving again, she wonders if that tipped him off that she’s ready to return to the land of the living.

“Hey.” She sighs, contently, slips her arms through his jacket hugging his waist, not looking up at him. His back feels all muscly and now – the flab’s virtually dissipated.

“Ginny? Baby? Are you okay?” He sounds anxious.

She closes her eyes, inhales the scent of him, before craning her head back and nodding.

“I got you, Baker.” He says, in soothing tones.

He’s still pink – he’s still a little edgy on his breathing – he looks bewildered, confused and really worried, although she can’t fathom why. The furrows on his forehead are steep.

But there’s that fond look in his eyes, as well - that makes her feel pretty darn special.

“What has gotten into you?” He presses his lips to her forehead, murmurs into her hair. “I thought we agreed no public displays of affection.”

 (She thinks to tell him what they did has less to do with affection – but her throat is all sore from – well – she reckons – the moaning and screaming. It’s amazing Fire Rescue hasn’t broken down the door yet.

 _Huh_! She chuckles inwardly. _Wouldn’t that have been fun_!)

Ginny’s lips tinge when he brushes his mouth against her. It’s soft and gentle – all Mike. He still looks nervous, his eyes searching her face for something. He doesn’t say much but tucks her head under his chin. The warmth of embrace makes it easier to bear that icy marble numbing her thighs. She feels comforted and pampered in this embrace of his.

“Nothing.” She sighs, when she finds her voice. It’s hoarse and – huskier. She gives him a mysterious smile as an answer.

His chest expands under her face, she can hear that audible heave of relief. She’s wondering what’s got him all up and bothered.

She listens to his rabbit-paced heart slowing down. “If I’d have known you get so horny every time I wear a tux, I’d wear it all the time.” He breathes into her ear. His laugh rumbles through his chest.

She giggles and rubs her nose in his shirt. She jerks her head back with wide eyes and realizes her foundation has smeared on the lapels of his waist coat.

“So, we did that.” He says, not sounding as amused as she expects. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but is having sex in a public place gonna be a thing now? ‘Cause – I’m totally game if you are… “

Her adorable, goofy, gentle Mike is back.  She thinks about the dark and twisty Mike who fucked her nice and hard – and decides she likes that one too – she needs more of that one.

“Did I hurt you?” He says, the concern flashing in his face when he helps her off the marble countertop.

Oh—okay. That explains the worry.

“No.” She shakes her head, but she does feel mighty sore.

“Babe?” He says, “It got really nasty back then. Are you sure?”

“No. No.” She says, patting away the foundation stain on his shirt till it gets lighter. She gives him a reassuring look until those worry lines on his forehead disappear.

“I mean, I think you broke my vagina there a little.” She says, pursing her mouth and looking up at him sheepishly.

His eyes disappear into slits, those crinkly lines appearing at the corners when he widens his mouth.

“How about we get outta here?” She whispers, grinning up at him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. “How about you take me somewhere and fuck me senseless?”

His shoulders shake as he guffaws. “Ginny Baker and her dirty mouth.” He mumbles.

She cranes her head up, jutting her chin out and giving him her naughty smile and a daring look. “I didn’t hear you complaining about my dirty mouth, back then.” She jerks her head gesturing to the door.

His pupils bloom for a second – a spark of lust flashes in his eyes. There’s a ghost of a smile lingering on his mouth, when she turns around to face the mirror. He keeps a hand to steady her while she uses the Turkish hand towels to clean the mess they’ve made over her thighs. When he seems convinced she’s not going to collapse to the floor, he disentangles himself from her.

He tugs his pants up, tucking his dick away before he reaches for her. She shimmies to get her dress in place – but his hands are already on the bodice tugging it up. (Like, she doesn’t even have to ask – and it’s so cute how intuitive he is - ) he zips her up and helps her smooth out her dress. She watches his reflection feeling a powerful wave of warmth and love when loosely embraces her from behind while she fixes her disastrous hair. Her makeup’s all over the place. Ginny doesn’t care much to fix it – but she uses the tissues to make herself look somewhat presentable.

They make a pretty picture, she thinks, looking at his face, now resting on her shoulder, spooning her, kissing her neck occasionally.

 “I’m hungry.” She whines.

“Yeah, I was beginning to wonder when that’d come up.” He says, laughing softly. He ducks her attempt to elbow him in the ribs, and gives her that adorable goofy smirk.

She turns around to kiss him. He lets her straighten his jacket, and refix his bow tie and comb his hair into place with her hands, while he looks on at her – lovingly.

It feels domestic and safe -that’s what is so appealing about this.  He loves her. She knows he does. She loves him too. They have to have ‘the talk’. They need to figure out how they’re gonna make it work.

But they’re not there yet. And Ginny isn’t ready for this wonderful cozy bubble to burst.

“I’m gonna need those?” She says, gesturing to his full pocket.

He releases, her walking backwards, pulls her panties out narrowing his eyes at her. “What these?” He says. “No way, Baker. These are mine.”

“Mike!” She hisses and lunges to snatch them. “I can’t just walk around like that – I mean – I’m not wearing anything underneath!”

“Nope.” He smirks smugly and extends his hand out of her grasp.

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Keep ‘em as a souvenir.”

“For what?”

“For the next time you call me a pervert.”

“You totally _are_ a pervert!”

“Says the woman who gifted me these panties in the middle of the Athlete’s Foundation Fundraiser for Neurodegenerative disease.”

Oh, is that what this function was? Ginny thought. Good to know. She would never have remembered all those many big words in one sentence anyway.

“And…” He continues, waving his hands as if to gesture to their situation. “Did – all - _this_. You damned nearly sexually harassed me in here!”

She huffs in frustration.

“Okay.” She says, making a stubborn face. “I did not sexually harass you anywhere – especially not the…what is this again?”

“You forgot, didn’t ya?” He says, that maddeningly adorable taunting look on his face. “You forgot what this was.”

“I showed up, didn’t I?” She says, making a dirty face.

She eyes the crumpled item in his hand thinking she can get them when his guard is down while he’s snorting with laughter. Nope  - not a chance. Mike catches her wrist before can snatch them.  

He brings her panties to his nose, holding her hand in a tight grip. Ginny makes a face at him when he sniffs them. “They even smell like you. Like -uh - you diddled the skittle a bit.” He drawls. When she blushes, his eyes pop. He sniggers with amusement. “Fuck! You did, didn’t you? You naughty sexy perverse woman, you!”

“Shut up!” She giggles and wrestles his arm. He flicks her wrist away like it’s a fly. He’s laughing loudly when he shoves her panties into his pockets and goes to the door.

“Mike! No!” She hisses, and grabs his shoulders. He just shrugs her off and opens the door to peek out.

“I’m gonna get you for that!” She whispers at him, fiercely as she peeks over his shoulder.

“God, I hope so.” He says, winking at her as he exits.

“Mike! C’mon!” She hisses, urgently as she sneaks out. She follows him, biting back curses and grinding her teeth as he smugly swaggers out, keeping his hand in his pockets, ignoring her attempts to tackle him from behind without it turning into an outright skirmish.

“Dude!” She mutters after him as reaches the edge of the corridor. “That’s not cool!”

“Dude?” He chortles and turns around. He keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets and dramatically leans against the wall and gives her his sexy ‘come hither and fuck with me’ look.

He’s having far too much fun at her expense. Ginnys shifts about uncomfortably, acutely aware of her naked ladybits. She can tell from that self-assured look on his face that he’s daring her to come and get her property.

He’s about to open that trap of his and say something when his eyes focus at a point behind her and his expression seizes.

“Ginny?”

 _Oh fuuuuuckk_! She knows that voice.

Mike’s smile fades. He straightens up and clenches his jaw with a cold unfeeling look, pretty much glowering at the party behind her.

“Trevor!” She says, turning around, with a little more fake enthusiasm in her smile than in her voice. “Uh Hi!” She’s about to ask him what he was doing here, but then she recalls the Cardinals were in town and they’d just played them the previous day.

She steps backwards as Trevor comes towards them. She can sense Mike stepping forward from behind her.

“Hi!” Trevor says, a little testily, his eyes constantly darting towards Mike. “How are you?” He says.

“I’m – uh…I’m good.” She says, feeling sheepish.

“Lawson.” Trevor says.

“Davis.” Mike says, coldly.

“You look great!” Trevor says, giving her a once-over, spreading his arms out like he wants to hug her. Ginny wonders foolishly if he can tell that she doesn’t have any underwear on.

She can hear Mike snort indignantly behind her. She jerks back at glare at him and then whips around and smiles – a little too sweetly at Trevor. “Erm – yeah thanks.”

A _giant_ awkward silence ensues.

“So listen – can we talk?” He says, looking at her quizzically.

“Er – yeah sure.” She says, throwing a glance back at Mike. She shoots him a glare when she sees him roll his eyes.

Ginny’s head snaps towards Trevor and she comes up with her most plastic smile.

He looks towards Mike. Mike’s being a colossal shitface. “Lawson?” He says, when Mike doesn’t budge.

“Yeah buddy?” Mike asks. Ginny thinks he sounds so fake when he pretends to be clueless. She twists her mouth when she throws a scowl back at him.

“D’you wanna give us a couple of minutes?” Trevor asks, in a tone that suggests he’s speaking to a child, or lower intelligence – or in Mike’s case, as far as Ginny’s concerned, a world-class douchebag when he wants to be.

“No.” Mike mutters.

“Yes!” She pipes up, loudly and near simultaneously, overriding his comment. “Yes, he will.” She orders, folding her arms and glaring at Mike.

Mike makes a facial shrug – that face mask of innocence still in play. He turns around and makes to leave when he stops in his tracks and curses. “Ah Shit!”

“What?” She hisses, just another feminine voice reaches her ears.

“Mike!”

Now, it’s her turn to go all stoic. Ginny huffs out and sticks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, when she sees Rachel Patrick heading towards them from the opposite side.

Mike’s ex has one thing in common with him, Ginny thinks. They both age fine. Rachel looks as gorgeous as ever and wearing that shocking red dress that matches her hair colour. Ginny _hates_ the dress – because, she knows Mike loves that colour. (Ginny has lingerie in the colour, because Mike loves that colour). Only it looks better on Rachel (the dress, not the – not the other thing).

(Sure, that trapped, get-me-outta-here look on Mike’s face is comforting – but she can see he’s got an appreciation thing going on over Rachel’s choice.)

“Ginny!” Rachel says, looking at her curiously. “How are you?”

“She’s good.” Mike says, quickly, earning a confused look from Rachel.

(Ginny’s busy wondering whether Mike’ll still find her pretty when she’s old and can’t play ball anymore.)

Mike takes his hand out of his pant pocket – she notices because she’s had her eyes on those pockets for fear of her private garments falling out. He reaches for the breast pocket of his jacket.

He’s reaching for the gum, she knows that, too. (She knows he’s a nervous chewer. It’s his thing. He gets skittish around Rachel. Ginny never understands why. She’s not sure she’s ready to delve into that.)

Rachel smiles at Trevor who smiles back and then Ginny can’t bring up a wider more uncomfortable smile for both Rachel and Trevor.

So there they are.  Trapped on either side by their exes, with everyone smiling at everyone else like they’re in a Mexican standoff – except they’ve got smiles instead of guns.

Except for Mike of course. He’s just being an asshole. He’s too fucking cool to be polite. He just chews gums and nods at them all, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, as though the situation wasn’t bad enough as it is.  

Ginny resists the urge to smack the back his head.

“I uh…” Ginny attempts breaks the ice.

“Oh!” Mike groans suddenly, cutting her off. He slaps his hand over his eyes and laments. “Fuck me!”

Lo and behold. As if this snafu wasn’t enough – the Sanders come from the third arm of the corridor, giggling and practically fused to each other, clearly drunk and obviously horny.

“Oh!” Evelyn squeaks as she spots them. “Oh I’m sorry!” Evelyn drawls, waving at everyone while Blip spurts into laughter, still holding her in a tight embrace. “We didn’t think anyone would be…” She trails off.

Ginny who was scratching the rug with the heel of her shoe looks up when Evelyn goes silent. She realizes that Evelyn’s drunken eyes are narrowed on her face with laser focus.

_Uh oh._

(The problem is - Evelyn’s trap has no filters when she’s drunk.)

“Ginny! Girl, you look like you had some serious sex!” Evelyn blurts, coolly. “What’d you…?” She shakes her head and then suddenly her eyes snap to Mike.

Ginny watches in horror as Evelyn’s mouth widens – slowly. Recognizably.

 _Gaarrgh_.

In that moment, Mike’s face goes blank – Ginny’s pretty certain her own face is an open book. She looks helplessly at Rachel on whose face is going paler by the second, she jerks her head to Trevor whose frown is fading into a dawning realization.

_Fuck fuck fucketty fuck._

Mike snaps out of it first. He makes a wide eyed – ‘I dunno what’s happening, this is all crazy, huh?’ face and shrugs his shoulders.

“C’mon Baker,” He says, grabbing her elbow – like it’s no big deal. “You can talk to loverboy, later.” He looks at Blip. “You two have fun.” Mike says to Blip – whose face literally – and Ginny’s positive about her vocabulary here – _literally_ mirrors Evelyn.

Ginny’s too dumbfucked to protest. She just trots along in a trance looking back at Blip, Evelyn, Rachel and Trevor who are all standing about looking confused, staring after her and Mike.

“Mike.” She says, panic edging over her voice. She looks up at him, helpless as he steers her around the corner. “We’re screwed.”

Mike’s hardened expression cools, and he looks at her sympathetically as he walks her out towards the party. “I’ve got you, Baker.” He says.

Ginny doesn’t know why - but it’s enough to calm her down. It’s all she needs, is what she thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Like if you review - I'll post the quick end to the series quickly *twiddles thumb*


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